Cigarette scent
by Creepy Karyna
Summary: Nagi and Genkaku having one weird conversation right before the first one goes on his killing spree, pretty random, a bit of spoilers and bad, bad title because there was no other idea.


I know I really shouldn't be writing this when I have an on going thingy, but my brain felt like it would explode if I didn't take this off. ;-; Have mercy.

I'm trying really hard with the voodoo dolls, but still not owning Deadman Wonderland.

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"Join the Undertakers? Pardon me, but kiss my ass." the tied up man spoke in a low tone.

"We've been wooing you for two years, but you just won't bite… Everyone in the group got a few screws loose… However, Owl… " said the red haired man currently crouching in front of the chair. "Of everyone I know, no one's more messed up than you. You belong with us. " Chocolate colored eyes met the green malevolent gaze.

"Are you kidding me? You think I'd join forces with the monster who killed my wife?" Anger, hurt, fear, Nagi's voice gave it all away. In another situation, this would thoroughly amuse Genkaku; it would make him even more excited to see the real colors of the man in front of him, to finally have him tainted, to give salvation to all these poor souls with him by his side. But like this… it didn't feel right. So he got up, put the syringe containing the drug back on the table and lit up another cigarette. The fifth one he had this hour. He frowned.

The Owl he wanted was the strong one, perfect and beautiful covered in blood and insides, showing no mercy or regrets. But…as any demon, craving for souls, his will is easier to bend; controlling him is no challenge; Genkaku knew Nagi wouldn't stand a chance against him. On the other side, the Owl in front of him, stubborn and defiant as hell seemed satisfying, but too weak. That's why he was supposed to use the drug; to free the hurt and anger to the point of breaking his self control. While his mind remained untouched. Not fair. A smirk appeared on the pale face of the monk. He leaned in and rested his palms on each side of the chair, a bit above the other man's head. It was pretty weird… he never really wanted to hurt anyone, just to give them salvation, but Owl was a completely different story. While Genkaku felt remorse for Nagi's physical wounds, all he wanted was to _have _him, all of him: strength, intelligence, stubbornness, defiance. And to have that, he needed to break Nagi's mind.

The redhead sat down again, legs crossed and a bit hunched over, the grin splitting his face from side to side now. "Your wife. The memory of her is overcome by your rampage afterwards, but I remember pretty clearly. Nice ass, nice smell and nice blood. She didn't scream. " Even though Owl was boiling with anger, he just clenched his teeth and looked away, trying to compensate for the earlier outburst. "Did she smoke?" The dark haired man kept ignoring Genkaku's low, almost kind voice. "Answer, what does it costs you? She's long rotten now anyways."

"Yes, she used to, but gave up when she was pregnant and a while after our daughter was born." Nagi said after a small pause.

"…your daughter. I see." The monk hung his head, his bangs covering his expression. "Where is she now?"

"Outside." There were hints of confusion in Nagi's voice; the Undertaker should have known; but they were covered in relief, love for his child and something else, maybe the assurance that she is safe and Genkaku would never reach her.

The redhead suddenly started laughing, getting louder and louder until the laughter became something more like the moans and cries of pain. His perfect toy was already broken. Ironically, by his own hands. "The last time you were close to your wife… did she smell of cigarettes?"

"I think so?" Owl's answer made Genkaku frown once again. He threw the half consumed cigarette on the floor, watched its still burning end for a while, then stepped on it on his way to the door behind the chair. Nagi heard it opening, but not closing. Half an hour after the monk's leave, the room was filled with hot steam, the smell of soap and the sound of running water. After another ten minutes, Genkaku came back wearing just his black jeans, having a towel around his neck. He gently put his left hand on Nagi's head and leaned in quickly closing the space between them, still holding Owl's sharp, full of hatred glare. Just lips against lips contact, not more than ten seconds. Ten seconds of warmth and water drops from the Undertaker's damp hair and mint scent and disgust, that's what it meant to Nagi. Genkaku pulled away, but kept hovering over the tied up man. "I didn't want to taste like her." He then went back to the table where the syringe laid, trying not to look in those chocolate eyes, watching him accusingly now, with more hatred than ever. "I guess the soap and tooth paste covered it up for now...should take a few months to wear off completely, the cigarette scent I mean."

"It would have been better if you could wash out the taste of blood." The monk shot Nagi a surprised look and maybe a bit, the smallest bit, annoyed. "Sorry, but that's impossible, sweetie. It's my brand." He said with a wide grin, looking almost human, almost understanding. Then he took the syringe, crouched again next to the chair and caught Owl's hand in his own, holding his palm upwards. Nagi watched him emptying the contents of the syringe in his veins and even though he couldn't see Genkaku's face, he knew the redhead is not really enjoying what he's doing. "Are you pitying me?" Instead of an answer, the man chuckled and kissed his palm.

"Your salvation is pretty close. Hang on just a bit more, alright Owl?" The undertaker stood then and ruffled Nagi's dark hair. He's been obsessing over the shadow of the man in front of him all this time. His beautiful Owl, cruel and merciless, was just a little piece of what Genkaku really wanted. And he wanted everything. The only way he could help the poor soul was to set him free from this body that had snapped under the guilt and suffering, separating Nagi's personality: one was too weak; the other wasn't enough satisfying for the redhead.

"Now, Owl, let's begin. Do you know what happened after I slaughtered your wife and daughter?"

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…that beautiful moment when you realize that what you've been working on in the past few hours (yes, I'm that slow) is total crap. Well…nothing to do here: retarded idea, messed up grammar, OC-ness, it's all there.


End file.
